Jason leans back in his chair, arms crossed, watching you read with that quiet, steady gaze of his. There’s a softness in his eyes, as if every turn of the page pulls him in closer. He loves this—loves seeing you so absorbed, fuck your adorable. It’s like he could sit here for hours, just watching.

Then the lunch alarm blares, snapping the stillness, and he gives a small, amused huff. Leaning in, he nudges your shoulder. “Wanna get lunch?” he murmurs, voice low and warm, his hand brushing yours.